Page 70 of Twisted Prince

I give Vinny a nod of acknowledgment, even as it puts a bitter taste in my mouth.

And though it feels like walking barefoot across broken glass, I keep my gaze fixed in front of me as I stalk toward the door. Never looking back.

I can’t let myself take one last glance.

Because I know my weakness.

And if I see Mel standing in that glass cage right now, it will surely break me.

I can’t look into her fathomless onyx eyes and wonder if I’m failing her.

If I’m losing her.

She was never mine to lose in the first place.

Wrenching open the ravaged door to my private room, I storm down the hall toward the emergency exit of Pearl’s. I fling it open and step out into the brisk night air. It feels good to have the cold breeze bring me back to reality. The dark night reminding me of where I belong.

Vik stands to my left, guarding the side entrance where Mel came and went from, and he scowls as soon as he sees me exit. “Why is it I keep finding you where you don’t belong?” he demands, stepping toward me with an air of warning.

I wish I still had my knives on me because, right about now, I’m ready to stab someone. Lucky for him, I left in too big a hurry. So they’re still inside that private room I never should have entered. I’ll cut my losses and consider myself lucky.

I dodged more than one bullet tonight.

“Fuck off, Vik. I’m leaving,” I snarl, shoving past him.

He turns to watch me go, cussing me out in Russian all the way.

When I round the corner of Pearl’s, I find my black Triumph Daytona sitting on the curb, waiting for me. Slinging my leg over the bike, I settle it between my thighs, flick up the kickstand, and dig in my pocket for my cell phone.

Sascha answers on the first ring this time. “You dead, or what?” he asks, his tone flat with sarcasm.

“Or what,” I answer darkly.

“So, the girl’s not coming with us?”

“No.”

A long silence stretches over the phone, Sascha’s dry humor needing no words to say, I told you so. “You want to talk about it?” he asks after a beat.

“I’d rather kill something right about now, so can we just drop it? Let’s get on the road.”

“Right. I’ll meet you in the parking lot by Fenway. You know the spot.” Sascha hangs up without confirmation.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I rev the motor of my sportbike and take one last look down the dark alley beside Pearl’s.

I know she’s not coming.

She made her choice.

But that doesn’t make the pain any more tolerable.

30

MEL

On the brink of hyperventilating, I walk home after my shift. Feet aching, my flower-print dress feeling entirely too revealing despite the tan trench coat I wear over it. Every dark shadow, any slight bit of movement, and I expect Gleb to reach out and grab me, to pull me into the safety of his arms.

But he doesn’t.

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